After two days I’m finally home in my own bed, I have washed every skerrick of makeup off of my face, and I am curled up with my slowly waning laptop on my lap. I am … relatively content, perhaps, 60% content.
On Friday I met Luke and Anna from Romance was Born and was pretty stoked. They had been to see my exhibition at Daine Singer and that really meant a lot to me. I used to sit on my computer not unlike I am now and lust over their garments as a completely unable to afford even a fifth of a shirt sleeve teen. Now, to know that they are even aware of my existence is really exciting - but the fact that they have seen and enjoyed my work is a phenomenal personal milestone.
Friday night I went to see an exhibition at CCP that a friend and I had been discussing, and then onto an exhibition opening at Gertrude Contemporary where my future studio is housed. I still don’t quite feel as though I am going to fit in there, as a person. I am nervous because I don’t make the kind of art that the space is known for. My friend Georgia says that is good, and that I will make friends with someone I really didn’t expect I would and have a brilliant time. She’s probably right.
Dinner was Japanese on Smith Street and awkward conversation had long dissipated as I’d consumed far too many standard drinks. I had fun but I don’t know if it was the kind of fun that I made for myself and talked myself into, or the kind of fun you have purely because of the brilliance of the company you’ve kept.
Saturday was breakfast, studio - beginning to despise the dingy Easey Street space with the broken window in favor of my Gertrude Contemporary large high ceilinged light at the end of the tunnel. “Only one more month” I tell myself, but it’s actually more than a month but rounding down always made more sense to me than rounding up.
I went to Georgia’s apartment in the afternoon and hung out there for a bit. I was seedy from the night before but we decided to go shopping together, something of which I have not done in company for years. I bought a new dress and wore it out of the store which of course miraculously relatively subsided the seediness. I truly am a believer in retail therapy. We then went to my dear friend Brodie’s zine launch in Collingwood, and sat in the corner sipping from cans and talking about when we lost our virgintys and who we thought was staring at us from across the room. Georgia eventually left and after our conversation I had only the odd kind of inherent nostalgia for something you told yourself at the time was important and that you should remember what it felt like left while navigating a few passing acquaintance exchanges before I walked to the train station. It was only early when I headed home but I couldn’t do a single more back and forth.
Tomorrow is Sunday. I’m going to work on my book and wait on a phone call.